Five
by Lily-Rose Schlichte
Summary: It was always my fault, that my parents were even together. My only friends are my sights, as I call them. I can only remember them in fives. Five words. Five sentences, Five feelings. Five memories. And haunting blue eyes. The ones I can never forget.
1. Words

**Hi! I'm so sorry that I'm such a procrastinator! I'm going to post the next chapter right after this but this is just the prologue. Sorry it's short though!**

"_Why"_ I had heard this conversation many times "Why on earth must you do this!" My mother had been stressed before, but it had never been to this extent. It was always the same, it was always about me. I'm the reason they're stuck with each other, they've been stuck with each other since my mother was 16. When she got pregnant with me with her teenage sweetheart. My father that is, they turned out to despise each other, and they only tolerate each other because they like me enough to keep a roof over top my head. They loved each other then. I didn't know this time he'd hurt her. I didn't know this fight would leave a gaping wound in my so-called family. I would have taken those hits, but instead I just was curled in the corner. Pathetic, useless, alone, sad; a single tear cut my face. I still remember those five clearly. It was always five.


	2. Bluebird

My mother's cries of pain always pierced my ears to no avail. At first, when I was younger, I was left alone only to cry at what my father had done. Now that I'm older, my body is no longer untouched. Slightly withered from the lack of food we have in the house, small welts cover spaces on my body every few months. I hate him for what he does to us; my mother and I. I hate myself more, because my mother would never have to go through this if she didn't get pregnant with me. she wouldn't have scars on her once beautiful figure. She looked young once too, when her eyes were so wide eyed and caring. That was when I was four though, ten years can change a person. They both still loved for each other and cared for me. When they were prosperous, those years were fine. But now that we've plummeted to poverty, I hear their screams each night ricocheting over the small unkempt house. I usually cried. It was all I could do.

My father hurt me everytime I interfered. He often told me it was my fault. My mother denied it, but I knew it was. When his scars no longer clung to my skin, the thin red lines that I had engulfed them with shone lightly. I never cut very deep. And was careful when they were healing not to show my mother. That would be all to cruel. She handled my father mostly herself. While I couldn't say she loved me, I at least knew she had a sense of property over me. That I was the one thing in life that was hers. It wasn't love, but in my house, at least it was something. I'd often go to sleep hurt.

_I was in the forest. My pink hair was loose. __**Loose?**_ _I wondered, I usually had my long hair pulled back with my bangs hanging loosely to the side. That's right. It's a dream. I flew through the air as a feather, light and blowing in the wind. A charming bird landed to my left, a bluebird if I remember correctly. The sun blazing across the clear sky, a blonde canary landing lightly on the wrist I extended to catch it._

_But when it sang, a horrible shrill scream threw; it's voice scattered. Running, I felt my legs move quickly paced as I heard the shot. The silhouette of a man I could only describe as my father, that crashed through the scenery, tearing everything of the beautiful scene to darkness. The sun eclipsed by a blood orange harvest moon. The yellow canary landing softly on the man's shoulder, and the blue, fell in front of my feet as I ran. I could not help it. It's body was so damaged, and hurt, that I had to contort my body to sweep up the bird. _

This is how all my dreams treat me, with hate. Even I do not like myself. Even my dreams give me no respite. They always started off beautiful. But then plummet to death. The yellow bird landing on his shoulder, the cruel laugh expelled, the blue feather dropped on the ground, the blood orange moon, and the disturbingly human eyes. I remember images. But the eyes. They were so dark they were almost black. I'd spend most of my life seeing them.

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**Ok, so this wasn't ****_right _****after, but I did the best I could. Hopefully I can post again next week.**


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